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Souvenir Edition of Poems 

By M. H. Cantrell 



Christmas, 1916 



(Copyright 1900, 1906, 1916, by M. H. Cantrell. All rights reserved.) 



Dear Friend: 

Please accept this Souvenir Edition of a few of my poems and 
the portraits of myself and family as a token of our friendship for 
you. I had it printed for a Christmas souvenir for our friends of 
whom you are one. 

Several of these poems are only excerpts of copyright editions 
of 1900 and 1906, and some are new ones. Hence they are in frag- 
ment form — scarcely any of which are printed in full on account of 
space. For instance, Imagination and The Sinking of Atlantis are 
mere extract stanzas of a long poem containing about five hundred 
stanzas of which these are only samples. Also Christmas Night is a 
short ex:ract of Midnight Reveries which is complete in more than 
a hundred similar Spenserian stanzas as printed in full in the 1906 
edition. The same is true as to some of the others. All the single 
verses were taken from longer poems. A few, however, are com- 
plete short poems as you will readily perceive. 

If you should find only one sentiment in all of them that awakens 
a responsive thought or feeling for the betterment of mankind, the 
author will feel repaid for the time he has taken in editing and 
presenting them to you as a 1916 Christmas greeting. 

Most respectfully, 

THE AUTHOR. 



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291917 



THE DAWN OF A NEW EPOCH. 

J stand in the twilight glimmer 

Of an epoch passing out, — 
In the dawn of marvelous innovations 

Of an epoch wrapped in doubt. 



MIDNIGHT REVERIES, 
Christmas Night 

v Tis now the pensive hour of musing deep 
On night's enhallowed hush sweet silence stands, 
And raptured thought, upborne on revery's sweep, 
Strays 'yond its bounds the gulf of vision spans, 
And from imagination's dreamful tower scan? 
The realms of fancy which unfold to sight 
A better future, better hopes and plans, 
For who could muse on scenes of such a n:'ght 
Nor feel within the better thoughts awake to light 9 

Ail harshen sounds are hushed and silence broods 
Like blessings borne on incense-laden breeze; 
Within the peaceful calm no changeful moods 
My reveries swerve or swage but to appease; 
So trends the hallowed theme with heavenly plei 
For mild deep musing doth all malic.9 chain; 
Through long sweet dreamful hours of thoughts like 1 
No withering cares flow back upon the brain, 
Or saddened memories that awake the soul to pa!r 

From out the midnight silence seems to come 
From many voices out of One that say, 
"Look up to heaven, be not blind or dumb, 
Behold how all the orbs one God obey, 
The form thou wearest now He made from ^lay, 
Gave it thy soul — why not to Him return, 
For he may hope who feels desire to pray? 
O thou, this all-important lesson learn — 
For each benighted soul the heavenly watchfires burn. 



CANTRELL'S POEMS. 



O Christmas night, Religion's holiest hour! 
What heavenly hope is hallowed in thy hushf 
When we forget ourselves in awe of the power 
Of God; the stars, the mellow moonbeams' blush, 
The softened sounds of waterfalls, the rush 
Of murmuring streams meandering on their way, 
The wind's low sigh, the gurgling fountains' gush, 
When the mild moon resumes her silent sway 
And from her zenith height shines downward bright as day 

Full on the dreamful hush she shone but now 
As on the Manger Babe in splendor wild 
She shone and lit the halo on His holy brow; 
Propitious peace proclaimed the Sacred Child 
As on a world of woe He gazed and smiled: 
'Twas ages long ago but still the midnight theme, 
The moon, the Babe, the Virgin Mother undefiled, 
Awale repentant souls from out the dream 
Of selfish thoughts to those that breathe of One Supreme. 

Religion seems to hallow memory then 

When all that's good and true and loved return. 

And at the holy shrine not made by men 

Some. prayer we offer and in meekness learn 

~~ humble b~w ; n spite of all wa spurn: 

Then love for God revives — the doubter fears, 

The Spirit speaks but only souls discern, 

From out the past a phantom host appears — 

The sins of life brought back by the refluent years. 



THE MIDNIGHT MASS, 
Or Watch Meeting 

Darkness has veiled the mellow light, 

The moon her silvery shroud unfurled, 

And somber silence broods tonight 

Upon the cold and cheerless world. 

Athwart the waves of yonder stream 

Like sparks of spray the moonbeams quiver, 

And all is tranquil as a dream 

Save the flow of the rushing river. 



CANTRELL'S POEMS. 



Hushed are the echoes on the breeze, 

All sounds subdued as if by awe impressed. 

The zephyrs sigh thro the boughs of the trees 
But waken not the soul's sweet rest. 

The sentinel stars so mildly bright 

Thro all the night their watch are keeping. 

Calmed are the sighs of the sorrowing tonight 
For in soft sleep they know no weeping. 

"Hark! it is midnight's tranquil noon, 

The church bells chime the midnight mass. 

And like yon pale and placid moon 

The new years seem to come and pass. 

A merry chime their peals enrolling 

The New-Year's birth with joyous chees ; 

A solemn dirge their chimes are tolling, 
'Tis the knell of the dying year. 

The fleeting years, how swift they pass! 

With us who watched the closing year 
'When last we held the midnight mass 

Alas! alas! are all not here, 

Yon mournful marble points the way 

That all on earth must sometime go 

Then who is here tonight so gay 

That may escape that cup of woe? 

For each a mournful hour will come 

And change the brightest joys to tears; 

The gayest shall at last succumb 

However long that death defers. 

iVIay each rejoice with every breath 

While yet he may in youthful bloom, 

"But first prepare your soul for death 
To meet the angel at the tomb. 

DUTY: 

Then it behooves each one tonight 
At once to hear, believe, repent 

'Confess, forgive, be baptized right, 

And love the brethren, be content. 



CANTRELL'S POEMS. 



THE APPARITION 

Is it day? I was so restless las: night 

And the pale mcon gave such glimmering light 

Through the broken clouds 
That her quivering rays through the window pane 
Pell checkered on my pillow where had lain 

One who sleeps in shrouds; — 

Low and silent laid 
By the streamlet's marge — hushed in death's cold sleep — 
Where the spirit vigils their lonely night-watch keep 

Neath the willow's shade 

The wind was wild and high when I wolre 

Through the crossing boughs the moonbeams broke 

In livid gleaming 
And again her angel form did appenr 
All wreathed in love, and I thought to call her 

But I was dreaming — 

I looked but alas! 
I could not see — her spirit form had fled 
'Twas only an apparition of the dead 

On the midnight pass 

The tenderest call cannot waken her now, 
Birds sing above her on the willow's bough,. 

But she hears not 
Their lovely lay. nor longer sighing caress 
Fondle me with loving tenderness; 

No, all, all's forgot — 

Never, never more 
Will she enfold me — ~he sleeps in peace 
By the streamlet's marge, but sorrow will cease 

On the spirit shore. 

Yes, I remember it all, 'twas in the spring 
When flowers blow and birds are wont to sing, 

And the stilly air 
Fraught with the fragrance of odorous blooms 
Spreads through all the woody aisles rich perfumes — 

And still lingering there 

Till dead Autumn leaves 
Inhale with arid breath their sweets away. 
Like lulling dreams upon our slumbers prey— 

All our love deceives. 



CANTRELL'S POEMS. 



BIRDS OF THOUGHT 

"Wild and high the sea birds cry, 
And all are plumed for ilight — 

To perch unknown they all are flown, 
And I am sad to-night. 

The night is black, they'll all come back 

To-morrow's early dawn, 
Then slumber deep from my lids will creep 

Arc! my fears will all "be gone. 

JMy heart beats quick with pulses thick 
My thoughts are plumed for flight, 

For sisters mree long lost to me 
I yearn to see to-night. 

The night is dark and listen, harkl 

'Tis but my nervous breath 
Sighing low with a shuddering flow 

Like the whisper of death. 

A thought so strange, — beyond the range 

Of reason's stern control — 
Like fevered dreams of vision seems 

To bewilder my soul. 

But thoughts of Doubt, like birds that're out 

In a shelterless night, 
Will feel the lack in the midnight black 

Of a Guide that is right. 

The years creep on our joys are gone 

Before we are aware, 
And care and pain "besiege the brain 

With the thoughts of despair. 

The years are fled, their pleasures dead- 
Time thrust, them down the slope, 

And age is here with nothing to cheer 
Except delusive hope. 

God will sum in a world to come 

The moments of each year 
And task us anew with something to do 

For those we squandered here. 



CANTRELL'S POEMS, 



DRIFTING DOWN THE STREAM- 
The Saciamento River 



Musing in the moonlight 
Drifting down the stream, 

Floating soft at midnight 
Gently as I dream. 

Down the Sacramento — lonely 

In a frail canoe, 
You and I, and — only 

Room enough for two. 

Starry skies above me, 
Mellow moon so bright, 

Smile as though they love me, 
Shining all the night. 

Starry Skies below me, 

Moon inverted too, 
Shining up to show me — 

"Upward from the blue." 

Sloping hills receding, 
Woodlands whirling past, 

How the shores are speeding- 
Gliding smooth and fast. 

How the river rushes 
Onward to the sea, 



Gurgles, groans, and gushes, 
blowing swift and free. 

Musing in the moonlight, 
Making music sweet, 

Floating soft at midnight 
As the tides retieat. 

Sweetest strains are straying- 
^lowing from my flute; 

AU the while I'm playing 
Echoes follow suit; 

Mellow noteo are dying — 

Echoes far away, 
Softly seem their sighing — 

Sighing as I play; 

Murmurs down the river 

Making mellow moan, 
Sweeter than the giver — 
Echoes' softer tone, 

Making music double, 
Notes and echoes low — 

Drowning all my trouble 
In their ebb and flow. 



f 



A THANKSGIVING DOXOLOGY 

Blessed be our Heavenly Father, 

Blessed be His Son, 
Blessed be the Holy Spirit, 

Blessed all in One. 



Blessed be the holy angels, 
Heavenly messengers they 

That "eiicampeth round about them 
That fear Him" and obey. 



CANTRELL'S POEMS. 

"'Are they not all ministering spirits 

For the sake of them 
Who shall be heirs of salvation" 

In a spiritual realm? 

Blessed be our God forever, 

And His praise prolong, 
To Him who has blessed me ever 

I consecrate this song. 



A HYMN TO MY COUNTRY'S FLAG 

Forward forever, O Flag of the free, 
Freedom shall triumph wherever thou be; 
Hope of the slave if he only behold — 
Free if he touch but the hem of thy fold; 
Hope is awaken and waiting for thee, 
Waiting for freedom, O Flag of the free, 

Monarchs were masters through-out the wide wond 
Ere thou wert born and by freemen unfurled; 
Flag of an empire not ruled by one head 
But by the people who govern instead; 
Hope is awaken and waiting for thee, 
Waiting for freedom, O Flag of the free. 

Peace is thy motto with malice for none, 
War to the death if by tyrants begun; 
God and forgiveness thy terms to the foe 
Whan he has fallen, in his hour of woe. 
Hope is awaken and waiting for thee, 
Waiting for freedom, O Flag of the free. 

Welcomed wherever thy stripes and thy stars 
Brings the free ballot and bigotry bars — 
Stars of heraldic redemption of right, 
Stripes for correcting the doctrine of might: 
Hope is awaken and waiting for thee, 
Waiting for freedom, Flag of the free. 

Thou hast annulled the prerogative of kings, 
Gave our Republic her starspangled wings, 
Built on the base of the home and the school, 
First to proclaim it, "the people shall rule.": 
Hope is awaken and waiting for thee, 
Waiting for freedom, O Flag of the free. 



CANTRELL'S POEMS 



Not to invade and to vanquish like Rome, 
But to uplift and enlighten the home; 
Teach the world to change the sword for the pei>„ 
Make of mankind one brotherhood of men: 
Hope is awaken and waiting for thee, 
Wait:ng for freedom, O Flag of the free. 

Never a subject subdues to thy reign, 
Never an exile casts from thy domain, 
Where thou art planted forever shall dwell 
Freedom of speech and of worship as well: 
Where thou art planted forever shall dwell 
Cod and hope: Flag of my country, farewell. 



DO NOT NEGLECT THE LITTLE ONES 

Do not neglect the little ones; 
A baby's budding soul is waxen mold 
And shaped for life by every word it's told, 

Then O beware of jokes and puns 
And careless words in lightness said 

Lest they a meaning false convey, — 
The minds of these, like little trees, 

Once bent will stay. 

Do not neglect the little ones, 
Nor think their little wicked ways are cute 
Because they're small, such bears but evil fruit, 

Who does, to God his duty shuns; 
But train while young what God commands 

And vigilance is the price — 
Those little hands are tendril bands 

That cling to vice. 

Dj not neglect tha little ones, 
For such inherit Heaven's kingdom blest; 
Whate'er beside no: one of these molest, 

Lest God himself in wrath disowns 
And punish in a world to come 

Those who neglect them here: 
Even the dull who may seem dumb 

Are not for sneer. 



CANTRELL'S POEMS. 



TO MY LITTLE NIECE, DEWENE FLYNT 

What art thou laughing about, O Dewene? 

Laughing aloud at thyself to be seen! 
Whils: thou art prattling and prattling so gay, 
Thinking that it will always be May, 
And thy employment will always be play, 

Thou inexperienced sweet Fay. 

Aged but a year and a day. 

What art thou crying about, O Dewene? 

Crying ss laughing only to be seen: 
Grief for the toy that has rolled from thy sight 
Which is thy world ind thy hope and delight — 
Pleased with a bauble or anything bright, 

Thou inexperienced sweet Fay 

Thinking of nothing but play. 

What art thou thinking about, O Dewene? 

Thinking of Wonderland fairies, I ween; 
Threading life's shuttle with gossamer gleams, 
Wrought in a warp which impalpable seems, 
Weaving an infantine fabric of dreams 

Thou inexperienced sweet Fay, 

Thinking of nothing but play. 

I too am thinking today, O Dewene — 

Thinking of thee in the far unforeseen; 
Life in its blossom so blithesome but now, 
Soon with its sorrows to sadden thy brow, 
Beauty to blast and the body to bow, 

Thou inexperienced sweet Fay 

Thinking of only today. 

Thus I am thinking today, O Dewene, 

Thinking of thee in the far unforeseen; 
What false pretenses! friendships untrue! 
What sad experiences! pleasures how few! 
What thorns of sorrow to pierce thy heart through! 

Ere thou hast crossed the dark way, 

Tnou inexperienced sweet Fay, 



10 CANTRELL'S POEMS. 



I have consulted God's Word, O Dewene, 
Thy horoscope from the Scriptures to glean; 
This is thy future, by His Biok I divine, — 
For all who follow its teachings to the line, 
Chastity, wisdom, and truth will be thine, 
Thou inexperienced sweet Fay, 
Think of thy future's bright day. 

Consult the Scriptures daily, O Dewene, 

Study them well to know what they mean, 
For only they can cast thy horoscope, 
Fullest in fortitude and strongest in hope, 
Firmest and fittest with evils to cope, 

Thou inexperienced sweet Fay, 

Think of thy future's bright day. 

TO LITTLE GRADY 

Be good my boy, be ever good, 

Let others do, if any would, 

The wrong for spite in passion's rage; 

Be good, be kind, be thoughtful — sage 

Be patient with the dull and slow 

And in their hearts thy love will grow; 

In r:'per years 'twill bud and bloom 

And bear thee fruit beyond the tomD. 

Be modest, manly and polite, 
Be ready to speak out for right, 
Be on the side of God and Truth 
And make thyself a model youth, 
And in thy years of manhood's bloom 
No scowl thy features will assume — 
Be ever pure and calm and kind, 
The face reveals the thoughts of mind 

Be honest, faithful and sincere, 

Be always bright and full of cheer, 

The gloomy soul can never be 

A fit abode for spirits free. 

Thy country needs such men to make 

Her future laws when faith shall break 

When evil men with greed for gold 

Her honored name have bought and sold 



CANTRELL'S POEMS. 11 



Be studious in thy childhood's spring 
That when life's winter comes 'twill bring 
Thee wisdom in abundant store 
Of days well spent in useful lore, 
Then age with all its years will be 
A triumph, not a curse, to thee, 
And when the grave demands thy frame 
'Twill bear above an honored name 



PHASES OF LIFE 

Life is but a mold 
'To cast a soul that lives beyond decay, 
And when the soul her earthly aims unfold 

Flings the mold away. 

The long sought treasure 
"We may ever strive to reach in vain, 
If gained is hut an empty pleasure 

Lengthened out of pain. 

For the soul that craves it 
Will find it useless in the grave, 
And often all the good, in life, he saves it 

And becomes its slave. 

So beware of riches 
Except ye use it well for noble things, 
Love God, adorn H's doctrines, fill your nichsj 

B3 ye more than kings. 

Cold perseverance, 
Selfrelying, scales the tower of fame, 
.And with the hand of patient endurance 

Writes in gold his name. 



'Our Ipve is like a trailing vine, 

Within itself it can not rise, 
Must round some kindred object twine. 

Or else it withers, droops and dies 

ISBless the widow and the orphan spake the Christ to man of old, 

Feed the poor and Clothe the naked!, cease thy love and lust for gold. 



12 CANTRELL'S POEMS'. 



THE SIBER'S SOLILOQUY 

'Tis hoary winter now, and melancholy 

Sadness pervades the hushed air! Dim through 

The gathering gloom the moonbeams pale are sleep]!.,/ 

Enthroned in placid awe, and rigor swept 

By winds, the fleecy, snow-capped mountains raise 

Their lofty brows in regal grandeur now; 

And, frowning from their towering heights, their tali 

White-ribbed peaks cast an icy chilliness 

Upon the cold and desolate landscape. 

Banked along 
The edying horizon — lulled and low — 
Lie shattered storm-torn clouds in sullen repose, 
The vapor-curded moon, behind the mountain's blow 
Is setting dreamily. Now robed in white, 
The cold and solemn summits, bleak and bald, 
Cast their long chilly shadows cold athwart 
The twilight plain. And rising, spectral-like, 
Wild winds beat at the screaky casements, moan 
And rattle through the lonely prison bars, 
Pass with the fitful gust and die again 
Upon the placid stillness. 

Lo! the glassy stre^mlev. 
Set with the crystal studs of winter, winds 
It's struggling course slow through the icled reeds 
Reflects the tinsiled beauties of the cold 
And flaky Heavens. 

Silence settles deep. 
And on the lake and landscape lone, now broods 
A breathless hushedness that wakes the mind 
To sad reflections and the heart to sympathy. 
Housed in the homes of plentitude and pride, 
No love or word goes out to poor unthought-of 
Uncared-for victims of the heartless Czar. 
And as the warm life currents flood the frame 
From fountains fresh with food's supply and spread 
The lineaments with crimson glow of health, 
No thought of destitution pleads at conscience 
For our assistance. 



CANTRELL'S POEMS. 13 

As the keen cutting wind 
Comes hurrying up from the bleak, cold North 
And howls and moans again through crevices 
And casements of the grim old prison walls, 
And dies again in stillness and then comes 
Again upon the rowdying bluster like 
Some weird night fiend to chase away the dreams 
Of Quietness, I fancy to myself 
All of the forms of wretchedness and woe 
Careering at large o'er the fruitless fields 
And wastes of cold Siberia's shelterless plains. 
All the untold, unspeakable sorrows of 
The exile whose scant stores, exhausted by 
The ceaseless scourge of famine and disease, 
Now feels with blunted pride and deadening dread 
The soul-disturbing pangs of mind's unrest. 
And as I look out from the prison window 
Upon the frozen grandeur there, I draw 
One long sad view of wretchedness and woe; 
And grimly pictured on the niveous scroll 
Wide desolation sleeps in calm repose. 
Hollow-eyed misery creeps from cells of want, 
And Famine skeleton-robed stalks about 
The haunts of poverty and looks upon 
The foodless scene with wasted, hollow cheeks, 
And gestures at the scant supplies of nature 
Locked in the frozen folds of winter. 
The midnight lamp, my only companion 
Now flickers faintly in the frosty silence 
Like some wiered specter-courier from out 

The memory's past, and speaks in tongueless whisper? 

Of mother, home and little ones at rest 

And tender tears kept back drown half the sadness 

Of these melancholy reveries. 

And as it casts its gleam in gentle glimmers 

Out through the casement on the tinsiled snow-drifts, 

Reflection brings to view again the wild 

Bewildering slope of departed years 

Revealed on one wild range, and as I gaze 

Upon the sterile wastes of Siber's hills 

I long bu + long in vain to see once more 

The family fireside and familiar scenes 



14 CANTRELL'S POEMS. 



That long since faded into empty nothingness 

And say to that dim lamp expire in gloom 

And leave me all alone as if thou ne'er 

Hadst been — It blares — 'tis darkness now. From the*? 

Dim lamp, I learn a lesson. Youth, like thee, 

Blazes with hope's eager expectations — 

Blares at the many turning-points of life — 

Expires in feeble age. 



IMAGINATION 

The bold imagination with its all beholding gaze 
Explores the mysteries farther than scientific eye surveys; 
Upborne on thoughts ethereal, more of pleasing fancy fond r 
It sweeps the dome of distance, dives into the depths beyond. 

It feeds on lovely visions — sails the fancy-seas unknown, 
Draws out the classic features from the shapeless blocks of stonev 
It mounts the starry stairway leading upward, ever higher, 
With never sated vision and with thoughts that never tire. 

It dredges out the oceans, sweeps beyond the starry dome. 
And ranges out forever and is everywhere at home; 
Restores the forms of fossils and repeoples all the past, 
And from the living present molds the mystic future's cast. 

The patriarchal father with his venerable head of gray 
Alone beside the dying embers makes a sad survey; 
He sees the vacant places with his aged vision slack — 
They're gone forever but imagination brings them back. 

Their places filled by fancy and the absent cease to roam — 
Again around the family fireside sees the loved at home; 
The little cherub prattler still in fancy-vision lives, 
He feels its warm carresses which imagination gives, 

He hears its tender prattle as he muses by the fire — 
Its voice is hushed forever though it never can expire 
For memory mirrors ever and imagination burns — 
The grave is lost in re very as the faded form returns. 



% 



CANTRELL'S POEMS. 15 

Thus soars imagination through the boundless realms of space, 
A vagrant child of fancy and without a resting place, 
An iridescent vision like the rainbow's mystic law 
That onward moves before us as we nearer to it draw. 

We see it .here in fancy but a fading frost of blue, 

A bow of crimson beauty moving onward with :he view— 

The mind's mirage of memory with its vague inverted schemes, 

Arising on our visions and dissolving with our dreams. 

It lures the youthful dreamer onward to the "heap of gold," 
It lures the superstitious and it lures the brave and bold, 
It lures the aged dotard onward to the end of life. 
And bends a bow of beauty o'er a world of woe and strife. 

We see the visions vanish a s we venture on and on, 
We reach the end bewildered and the "heap of gold" is gone; 
We reach the end bewildered and we fathom for the trutb 
We start again to journey where we started in our youth. 



THE SINKING OF ATLANTIS 

I saw Atlantis swallowed up with all her freight of souls— 

The wall of waves that wailed her dirge and now above her rolls; 

I felt the wild upheaval, and I heard the awful roar 

When earthquakes rent the ocean and the rifted waves closed o'er. 

Upon the bed of ocean lie her spires and steeples strown 
Beneath the weight of waters and their ceaseless seething moan: 
The wrecks of mighty temples buried in their briny graves — 
The grim abode of monsters and the sport of angry waves. 

There lie her gorgeous cities silent in eternal sleep 
Where rise no more the war-cry and no howling tempests sweep; 
There silence reigns sternal save the seething of the surge. 
That in a monotone of sadness wails a ceaseless dirge. 

There stands the gaudy palace settling slowly in the mud, 
Around it seethe the surges, rolls above the ceaseless flood; 
Its domes and towers toppled but erect the court and halls 
With many a rent an % d chasm in its wave-beleaguered walls. 



16 CANTRELL'S POEMS. 



There strange abyssal fauna spectre-like in silence sport, 
There gorgeous ocean goblins haunt the alcoves of the court 
There phosforescent monsters o'er the oozy bottom creep 
And with their lurid lanterns light the darkness of the deep. 

And there she lies forever, buried from the sight of man, 
No resurrection for her save the evolution plan — 
When raised by some upheaval when the ages shall reclaim 
Her from the depths of ocean through volcanic force and flame. 

When many million ages roll before the human eye, 
Earth's cooling center shrinking leaves the beds of ocean dry, 
Or by some seismic rupture when the isles their shapes revise 
From out the world of water man may see Atlantis rise. 

Far in the future's future when her clime has changed its zone, 
Her valleysveiled with verdure and her hills new groves have grown, 
And crowded populations dot again her fruitful plains 
Some future archaeologist may unearth her lost remains. 



"I can" are the thunder-words that drive 
The submarine and navigate the air; 

"I can't" is the epitaph of failure 
Upon the tombstone of despair. 



From the present looking backward 
Lies the past a field of blood, 

And the cries of crime are wafted 
O'er the centuries' crimson flood. 

Long I to uplift the fallen 

Ere I sleep within the tomb, 

See the heathen lands converted, 
See the Christian bud in bloom. 

I may not behold the blossom 

But 'twill bloom and bear its fruit, 

For the Christ shall reap the harvest 
Where the Gospel seed takes root. 




» 



GRADY T. CANTRELL 





fflg) 




PSALM 150. 

An exhortation to praise God 
with all kind of instrpmtnU 

1 Praise ye the Lord. 

* * * * 

3 Praise him with the sound 
of the trumpet. Praise him 
nth the psaltery and harp. 




4 Praise him ''with the timbrel and pipe. Praise him with stringed 
instruments and organs. 

5 Praise him upon the loud f cymbal s . Praise him upon the high 
sounding cymbals. 

6 Let every thing that hath breath praise the Lord. Praise ye 
the Lord. 

MRS. M. H. CANTRELL and her Musical Instruments 



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,S R * RY 0F CONGRESS 

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